


The Return of the Sherlock Club

by chappysmom



Series: The Sherlock Holmes Club [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chappysmom/pseuds/chappysmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of the idea: What if all the different variations on Sherlock Holmes got together for monthly meetings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On women

“I’m just saying that women aren’t as intelligent as men. I didn’t say they had no good qualities at all.”

Canon!Holmes wearily shook his head. Were they back to this again? You would think a group as intelligent as the collected Sherlocks would have been satisfied with the 27 other times this had come up in conversation.

Caine!Holmes piped up with, “I think the ladies can be quite appealing.”

“Yes, Caine,” said Rathbone!Holmes wearily. “We all know how you feel about them, but you’re … an exception.”

Caine!Holmes looked indignant for a moment and opened his mouth as if to protest, but then paused a moment as a look of sympathy flitted across it. “I keep forgetting that the rest of you aren’t interested, though ignoring half the human race as beneath your notice seems dreadfully short-sighted, don’t you think?”

“It’s not that we don’t notice them,” Granada!Holmes explained kindly. “It’s just that they’re not as interesting.”

“Not interesting? But women are fascinating creatures!”

“I wouldn’t go that far, dear fellow, but I’ll admit to occasionally perplexing. They can be so emotional.”

“Indeed,” agreed Canon!Holmes. “I believe that is their greatest fault. Instead of being rational, they rely on their emotions to muddle through their lives. There really are very few women I’ve met that I can admire at all.” He nodded at Caine!Holmes “Though I’ll allow that they can be picturesque.”

RDJ!Holmes lifted his head. “I think they can be smart enough, in their way. My biggest problem is how they keep distracting WATSON.”

Murmurs of agreement from around the room. “It’s true,” said Cumberbatch!Holmes. “John keeps going out on dates—and even bringing women home—and it’s very distracting. Doesn’t he know he’s supposed to be focusing on ME?”

The others looked confused. “Dates?” asked one.

“A modern social convenience,” explained Cumberbatch!Holmes, “Where a man and woman … well, usually … go out for something hopelessly mundane like dinner and a movie, maybe a few drinks, and usually end up in the sack together. The idea is that if they ‘fall in love,” (he couldn’t help the sing-song tone to his voice), “They’ll become a couple or get married or something altogether boring.”

“Fascinating,” breathed Caine!Holmes. “No chaperones? Or are these, er, professional ladies we’re talking about?”

“Most women these days do have jobs,” said Cumberbatch!Holmes, “But not the kind about which you’re thinking. It’s just that everyone—men and women—seem to like a night out at the pub to relax after a long day at work. Pah! Relaxing! So booooooring.”

“Women have jobs?” Rathbone!Holmes asked in disbelief. “Other than nanny or housekeeper, you mean?”

“Oh yes. All the professions you can think, really. Doctor, lawyer, scientist. Everything. Prime Minister even, back in the 80s or something.”

“How very odd,” said Canon!Holmes. 

“But, they simply haven’t the intellect!” protested Rathbone!Holmes. “Women are simply not the equals of men.”

“Oh, believe me, they are equal. Women are just as incompetent as the men. There’s no difference. None of them can keep up.”

The silent thought that shot around the room was unanimous. 

“Except for Irene.”


	2. The Mycroft Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With all the other characters getting together in a club, Mycroft had to join in, too. Of course, his club is the Diogenese....

The Mycrofts gathered once a month in a private room at the Diogenes Club. After a bountiful meal with practically no conversation (ideal), they retired to the sitting room where they took their seats, accepting drinks from the silent wait-staff.

For a time, peace reigned as each enjoyed a respite from his cares of running the British government and (worse) looking after Sherlock.

One pulled out a newspaper and read with the occasional crinkle of a turning page.

One had brought (reluctantly, but what could one do?) some papers from his office and sat motionless except for the occasional paper whisper as he read through the file.

One lit a pipe and enjoyed a perfect glass of brandy warmed at the candle by his chair.

One sipped at a cup of tea, making the occasional crystalline clink as he placed the cup in its saucer.

Then, shattering the near-silence, there was a sudden, electronic beep. 

All the heads turned with a glare to their newest member, who shame-facedly pulled his mobile out of his pocket, cursing himself for forgetting to change his text message alert to vibrate.


	3. On Film

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sherlock Club discusses the merits of having been made into film versions.

At the end of a long, leisurely meeting, after some of them had actually eaten some food, Caine!Holmes looked around and said in a satisfied tone, “You know, we really are a remarkable looking group.”

Granada!Holmes sniffed. “A random assortment of features is hardly worth mentioning, Caine. It’s the character behind the face that matters, as we all know.”

The others nodded as Cumberbatch!Holmes said, “It’s normal people’s passion, though, isn’t it? Superficial things like appearance? I mean, all of us can deduce a favorite childhood treat by the color of one’s fingernails, but normal people seem obsessed by people that are ‘attractive’.”

Caine!Holmes nodded vigorously. “Exactly. And, you know I have a background in acting myself.” (Ignoring the groans.) “It’s why I notice. I’m just saying that we are a good-looking group.”

They all looked at each other, pondering. What made one attractive, after all? “I suppose,” began Granada!Holmes, “That a certain symmetry to features is more pleasant to look at than not.

“There is something to be said for a long, lean figure, too,” added Rathbone!Holmes. “It seems quite efficient.”

RDJ!Holmes shrugged. “I don’t think you NEED height to be efficient.”

“Of course not, dear fellow,” said Caine!Holmes. “Nor do you need it. Your looks are really quite striking.” He ignored the mumble about “striking YOU” and turned to Cumberbatch!Holmes. “And your cheek bones! Your face is just fascinating.”

“It’s just my face,” he shrugged. “I don’t know why people insist on commenting on it. It’s not like I had a choice about it.”

“Unlike your coat,” sniggered Rathbone!Holmes.

The others looked up alertly, in case a fracas (or “something interesting”) occurred, but Cumberbatch!Holmes just shrugged again. “What? I like my coat.”

“Really, we all have a flair for the dramatic,” said Caine!Holmes, “Even Canon, here, isn’t above a grand gesture from time to time.”

They all pondered this and then Rathbone!Holmes suggested, “Perhaps it’s because--except for Canon here--we are all from film variations. Imagine if we allowed other written versions here!”

More groans all around.

Funnily enough, though, not one of these ultra-observant men noticed Canon’s slight air of embarrassment as he glanced toward his calendar.


	4. Mrs. Hudson Club

Not that they so much considered themselves a club, exactly, but the Mrs. Hudsons enjoyed getting together over a cup of tea every now and again to share notes.

They all agreed that it was tiring, keeping up with Sherlock Holmes. The constant stream of visitors at all hours, tracking mud into her clean house. The odd smells and noises from his experiments. The occasional random gunshots.

Not to mention the wear and tear of just the normal housekeeping. You would think someone as brilliant and logical as Sherlock Holmes would be a bit … tidier … in his personal habits. But no. Clutter everywhere. Tobacco hidden in slippers, knives stuck through innocent correspondence. It was impossible to dust properly without being scolded for interfering with his chemical messes.

Then there was the constant worry. Though some of them were fonder of their lodgers than others, all of them agreed that Sherlock Holmes lived a dangerous life and there was a constant fear that something dreadful could happen. Before renting rooms to him, none of them had really known what they were getting into.

Thank Providence for Dr. Watson, though, they all agreed. Not only was he polite and neat with his room and his person (as is proper with a former military man), but he often kept Sherlock Holmes’ worst impulses under control. Even if all he did was keep The Man from blowing the house to smithereens, it was more than they had hoped once the reality of Sherlock Holmes as a lodger had sunk in.

And so they sat and chattered amongst themselves, drinking tea. They usually had knitting with them, or their constantly-full mending basket because Holmes and Watson were forever damaging their clothing on their adventures. They shared stories about what their own lot had been up to lately, and compared recipes for cleaning solutions. They happily shared remedies for the aches and pains gained in cleaning up after the detective’s constant mess. (Their newest member had some wonderfully effective herbal soothers.) 

Mostly, they were just happy to be with other women who could appreciate how hard it was looking after these two particular bachelors. Other housekeepers, they all agreed, had no idea how easy they had it.

Not that they would change a thing. Difficult though Sherlock Holmes was, there was a charm to him that was difficult to deny.

Though they all agreed that he really was not responsible enough to have a firearm of any kind.


	5. Sherlocks and Watsons

Following up on the idea that had occurred during the surprisingly lively Christmas party, Canon!Holmes and Canon!Watson decided to invite all the other Holmes and Watsons to a joint club meeting. They agreed that the possibilities at the Christmas party had been intriguing, but that they had rather overcrowded the board with all the other characters. What they really wanted to do was study each other.

 

At first, they gathered in clusters of Sherlocks and Watsons, separated like teenaged boys and girls at a dance, but soon the mingling began.

 

The Sherlocks, in particular, were far too eager to waste any time. Questions were winging through their brains. Whose Watson was the bravest? Whose was the best doctor? The best shot? Whose was smartest? (Though they all agreed that Kingsley!Watson didn’t count, here, since he was as smart as the Sherlocks.)

 

Secretly, all of them thought their own Watson was the best of the lot, though Rathbone!Holmes occasionally looked the tiniest bit envious that some of them were more competent than his friend—more a true partner than a mere sidekick. Not nearly so amusing, though.

 

The Watsons were enjoying themselves, too, in their long-suffering way. Each knew his own Sherlock’s irritating habits to the smallest degree, and found a certain ironic pleasure in seeing that the other Sherlocks were just as annoying, just as autocratic as their own friend.

 

They didn’t much enjoy the odd feeling that they were being studied like lab rats, though. Because very quickly the evening shifted from feeling “social” to feeling like one grand experiment that all the Sherlocks were delighting in. It was one thing for their own friend to occasionally study them in that ultra-objective scientific way, but that was something different. One Watson observed that he didn’t wear his slippers and dressing gown in front of virtual strangers, either, and this studying thing the other other Holmeses were doing was just uncomfortable.

 

Still … to be fair (and Watsons were always fair) they had always studied their own Sherlocks for literary fodder, so what could they expect? They did enjoy a chance for comparison. They had always said that nobody could compare to Sherlock Holmes, and now there were many of them in one room—let the comparisons begin!

 

Ultimately, the evening was a great success. They all compared notes on similar cases, and there were some actual laughs as they told each other stories. It was so NICE, they all agreed, to have a group of like-minded people to talk to, people who could really understand the unique partnership they all had.

 

Still, each and every one of them was happy, at the end of the evening, to head back to their own 221B with their best friend. Because when all is said and done, it doesn’t matter how similar other “family” members were. Nobody could replace your own best friend.


	6. Old Versus New

The Sherlocks and Watsons had so enjoyed their joint meeting, they decided to make it a regular event. Not every month, perhaps, but at least once or twice a year. The possibilities were just too intriguing.

And if there were some whispers about the newest pair, well … there were reasons they were harder to understand than the rest. The intervening decades between them and the Rathbone/Bruce pair from WWII seemed quite extraordinary. As uninterested as the Sherlocks were in history and unnecessary details, the England the BBC pair lived in seemed so different, they couldn’t help but be intrigued. (The Watsons were all sad to hear that there was still fighting in Afghanistan.) 

The new pair used unfamiliar words (like “google”) and used others (“text,” “mobile”) in completely unfamiliar ways. They seemed like nice enough boys, though. Younger than most of them, but nice enough, even if their manners (and their clothes) were startlingly different. 

During the individual character meetings, they didn’t go into much detail about how 2012 was different from 1895, but when the Sherlocks and Watsons got together the subject couldn’t be avoided—if only because the two of them shared so many inexplicable comments the others couldn’t understand. And there was nothing Sherlock Holmes hated more than NOT understanding things.

It started with the little machines they carried in their pockets that beeped occasionally throughout the night. At first, they would just glance at the device and then giggle before carrying on whatever conversation they’d been in, but Sherlock Holmes in any incarnation was nothing if not curious, and so at a certain point, the older group had to ask. 

“Like a wireless telegraph,” they were told. 

The older set asked for a demonstration, so the two newest members stood at opposite ends of the room and sent coded messages back and forth at lightning speed. Instantaneous communication, even faster than a telegraph! 

And when they found out that Cumberbatch!Sherlock had no need of an Index because all he needed to do was use this device to look up, well, anything? They challenged him on this point, but both he and Freeman!Watson were able to pull up all kinds of information in an instant. The others started to feel a bit jealous. (Nor did it help when Cumberbatch!Sherlock produced perfectly played Bach on his device for the others to listen to.)

But, when Freeman!Watson gathered them all together for a group photograph and they were all able to see it right away on his device? 

Well, maybe there was something to be said for the future of England, after all.

He promised them a framed print for the wall for next time, too.


End file.
